


Untitled Sweaty Smutfest

by seven (sevenpoints)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpoints/pseuds/seven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt requesting Pinto and hot steamy sweaty heatwave sex, emphasis on the hot and sweaty part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Sweaty Smutfest

"God hates me."

Zach considered refuting that statement but didn't bother. "Yes, I believe he does."

They were standing outside Chris' house in the triple degree heat, staring forlornly at his defunct air conditioner. "What did the insurance company say?"

"They said sucks to be me. I would be angry about this but it's too fucking hot." He could feel sweat break out of every pore, completely failing to cool him in the dead humidity. He scratched at his chest where it started to itch, then just peeled his shirt off in a fit of pique, coming out disgruntled with his damp hair standing all over his head in clumps.

Zach absently patted it back down, then grimaced at his now sweat-soaked hands. "Fuck, this is disgusting. Let's go back to my place. We'll put you in the washing machine while I take a cold shower."

"I can't, I have to wait for the fucking maintenance guy to call back so I know whether or not this can be fixed."

"Welllllll to quote your insurance company--"

"You're staying with me, Quinto." A strong hand gripped his arm to pull him into the oven--er, house--but skidded off on his slick skin. Unlike Zach, he eyed his hand with interest.

Then he reached out and swiped his hand down Zach's arm again.

Then again.

He was going for a fourth swipe when Zach grabbed his wrist and a brief, slippery scuffle ensued.

"Chris what the hell are you doing?"

"What? Come on, tell me this isn't hot. It's like you rolled around in lube. Take your shirt off."

Another scuffle followed in which Chris tried to pull off his tank top and Zach wanted very much to keep it on. "What the fuck, Chris, stop, stop stop stop--!"

"Come on, Zach!" Ice blue eyes shouldn't be able to look that... _heated._  "You're hot, I'm hot, we're friends and we're stuck here, we might as well make the most of it." In case Zach wasn't getting the point, he reached down to adjust himself in his shorts.

That proved enough distraction for Chris to reach out and just rip Zach's shirt open, all the way down his chest.

" _Fuck_." Why was that so hot. "Chris... _fuck_ , why am I arguing again?" He whipped off the ruined garment--he would be pissed but it was just the stripey red one he wore to confuse the paps--and got to work on his shorts, kicking off his flops as he went. Before him Chris was doing the same and they left the pile of wet clothes by the door as they stumbled into the house.

Heat struck them like a physical blow, having quietly built up in the house all through the sweltering day. Zach felt dizzy as more sweat streamed off him, flattening his hair and trickling down around his precious parts like teasing phantom tongues.

He'd barely registered that thought before Chris was pressed against him and they were kissing, or trying to, as they skidded off each other's faces, stubble raising a mutual rash as they tried to grind together but  _slid_  instead. Chris' erection felt like a pillar of flame against his and he clawed at his ass, trying desperately to pull him closer.

"Shit, why haven't we been doing this all along?" he gasped, blinking his eyes against the bitter salt dripping off his lashes.

Chris bit him in response, saliva adding another layer of bodily fluids to the mess pooling at his collar bones, and all words were forgotten as their rising moans filled the house like the wails of doomed souls roasting in sempiternal hellfire.

They stumbled further into the house, getting no farther than the living room where Chris crashed them into a bookcase, sending them both pitching onto the hardwood floors in a shower of modern British literature. They paused long enough to knock the books aside before wrapping around each other again, undulating as they clung together and revelling in the way their hot wet bodies flowed together effortlessly, erections leaking copius precum to add to the delicious mess.

An exchange of grunts and one drawn out moan was all that was needed before Chris was pinning Zach down and dragging his hands through the fluids smeared across his belly, more than enough lubrication when Zach was already open and wet and melting in the heat. Two fingers sank in easily and pumped for what seemed like ages until Zach was begging, pleading,  _please, please, don't make me cum yet stop stop please, fuck me ohgod fuck me Chris!_

_You want my dick?_

_Yes!_

_**Say it!** _

_Fuck me! Gimme your cock, fuck me, nownownow--FUCK!_

Both men howled as Chris slid home and the obscene sucking sounds of wet rutting flesh filled the room, echoing off the hard floors and high ceilings to mingle with their frustrated groans. Their skin slipped easily over the floor and there was no leverage to fuck as hard as they wanted and Chris collapsed over Zach and  _writhed_ , twisting inside that hot, hot, unbelievably hot ass until they were both shuddering but it wasn't enough, still wasn't enough so he wrapped his arms around Zach and hauled him until his back was against the wall. There, with Zach's leg's doubled up in the air he finally managed to thrust, hard and fast and filthy, pistoning his hips until Zach was utterly limp, a boneless fucktoy whimpering under the onslaught.

_Are you with me?_

The answer was weak but fervent.  _Yes._

_Now!_  and Chris sped impossibly, jackhammering into Zach's prostate while he stroked the man's cock and they both shouted, open throated roars exploding in their ears as they came.  
  


 

 


End file.
